


Little Songs

by rosesisupposes



Series: Prompts for My Imaginary Sons [Sanders Sides Prompt Fills] [11]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Ambiguous Deceit Sanders, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Background Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Background Logic | Logan Sanders, Black Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Fae & Fairies, Fae AU, Fae Deceit Sanders, Fae don't have gender fight me, Irish Morality | Patton Sanders, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Deceit Sanders, Prompt Fill, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 08:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18735049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesisupposes/pseuds/rosesisupposes
Summary: "They'll try to lure you with pretty songs and sweet words. If you value your life, do NOT listen."





	Little Songs

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at a fae story, from an anonymous prompt request on tumblr.

Roman King always has a song in his mind. Always. He wakes humming, he sings arias in the shower, he serenades the kitchen and its occupants as he makes breakfast. If he isn’t singing, he’s listening to music, the beats and rhythms and words flowing through his veins, as vital and ever-present as his blood. Sometimes it’s Disney ballads, sometimes pop songs he can’t get out of his head, and frequently it’s show tunes from the latest production to open on Broadway. And sometimes it’s little songs that his boyfriend doesn’t quite recognize but loves all the same.

So it is not a surprise when Patton Amhrán hears Roman making his way to the kitchen and the tune he’s humming is one Pat has never heard before. He thinks almost nothing of it. He just hums in response as Roman loops his arms around his waist from behind and rests his chin on Patton’s shoulder.

“Good morning, honeybear,” he purrs, still barely awake.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Patton responds, continuing to fry eggs. “You’re up early for a weekend.”

“I woke up with an idea!” Roman replies, grinning. “Since my rehearsals don’t start until Monday, we have all of tomorrow free, and it’s supposed to be so nice out- let’s go on a hike!”

Sliding eggs onto a plate, Patton grins. “Ooh, we could be outdoorsy! That sounds wonderful. Where would you like to go?”

“Rowanberry Woods is just outside town, how about there?”

Patton freezes, turning slightly to see Roman’s expression. The actor’s face is open and happy, completely unperturbed. “Cupcake, why there?”

Roman shrugs. “I’ve just heard so much about it. Everyone around town talks about it so much.”

“Well, that’s true, but that’s because we’re mostly locals. So we all know about it, quite well.”

Roman starts humming again, catching Patton’s hand and pulling him into slow waltz around around the kitchen table, ignoring the freshly-prepared breakfast. “My ginger-peachy love, what is there to know?”

Patton can’t help smiling, so besotted is he with this wonderful man he has the fortune to be in love with. In the morning light that slides into their window from pearly-grey clouds, there’s already a firecracker energy in Roman’s dark eyes. But there are other concerns at the moment.

“It’s a sensitive forest,  _ a chroí.” _

“Sensitive?”

Patton shrugs. “The trees are… touchy. And the clearings aren’t much better.”

Roman grins. “Oh my god, Pat, are you talking about fairies? Lo said this would happen!”

Patton grimaces. “I know, I know, the fae aren’t real, Logan has explained their impossibility many times. And yet, everytime someone treats the woods in a less-than-respectful way, it goes badly for them.”

Roman keeps dancing Patton around, shifting from waltz to a calmer sway so that he can kiss his boyfriend’s cheek. “Then we won’t offend the trees, sweetie-pie. I just want to see it! And there’s supposed to a view of the whole valley from the hill.”

Patton feels his knees go just a little quivery at the kiss, just like they always do. Roman’s just so  _ pretty _ and  _ wonderful _ and Patton is absolutely infatuated. And now Roman is staring at him with those big brown eyes and how can Patton do anything other than agree?

He makes the mistake of mentioning their plans to Virgil, who’s just as native as Pat. Yes, the other man is more frequently subjected to his boyfriend’s skepticism now that they’ve moved in together, but Virgil waits until Logan is in the washroom to give Roman a warning.

"I know you Americans think you’re too progressive to be affected, but listen to me. The fae folk are very much real, and very clever. They'll try to lure you with pretty songs and sweet words. If you value your life, do NOT listen."

Roman rolls his eyes and scoffs, but he’s still humming, tapping a beat on Patton’s waist as they lean against the counter in Virgil and Logan’s kitchen for family dinner night. “How could anything distract  _ me,  _ Tall, Dark, and Spooky?” he asks, a bravado-filled grin flashing out against his dark skin. “I’m in love with the prettiest song the world could have given me.”

“The prettiest song?” Virgil asks.

“I’ve been learning just enough Irish to know what Patton’s last name means,” Roman says, more than a little proud. He caresses Pat’s face, grinning with his own achievement and adoration in equal measures. Patton blushes, leaning into his partner to kiss his cheek, too distracted by that beautiful smile to wonder why the steady tap-tap-tapping of Roman’s long fingers hasn’t stopped for hours.

* * *

The next morning is bright, comfortably warm and relatively dry, but fluffy grey clouds cover the sky. Roman is practically skipping as he and Patton climb the hill through the lush woods. They stick dutifully to the path, but Roman has far too much energy to walk slowly. He walks ahead to take pictures of flowers and leaves, then comes back to carry the picnic hamper and let Pat walk unburdened, gets distracted by birds flying overhead, and gets even more distracted by pulling his boyfriend close to kiss him softly and sweetly.

Somehow they manage to get to the top of the hill, setting up the picnic they brought. Patton relaxes, enjoying the nice weather and the view - it really is lovely. He can see his hometown and the neighboring towns, too, and the white dots of sheep up and down the hills. It’s a warm green bowl, brimming with familiarity and life.

Roman takes a couple of selfies with the view, then plops down next to Pat to capture them both, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek as the phone clicks. Patton smiles, and pulls Roman closer to connect their lips, and then again, and again, and Roman’s phone is set aside as both men are thoroughly distracted by each other.

Parting, Roman is panting just the slightest bit, and Patton is no better off. They smile at each other, glowing, and Patton caresses Roman’s cheek. 

“If you stand on that rock there, you’ll get the best view.”

“But the best view is right here,” Roman responds, turning his head to kiss Patton’s hand. A blush spreads across his boyfriend’s pale cheeks, and he smirks. “I’ll go check it out though. Maybe it manages to be half as breathtaking as you.”

“Stay on the path, okay?”

“Yes, dear,” Roman drawls, already walking away. 

Patton reclines on the picnic blanket. It really is so lovely here- why doesn’t he do this more? Is it just the trap of living so close all the time that he can never make a special occasion out of local attractions? One of the many wonderful perks of dating Roman has been having a newcomer to show around, so that every occasion becomes special. He hopes the view is all Roman was hoping for. Glancing down, he grimaces. Roman’s phone is still on the blanket. 

“Sugarpie, did you want your phone for pictures?” he calls. 

There’s no response. He looks up to see his love just short of the wide, flat-topped rock he’d pointed out. Roman doesn’t seem to be able to hear him- or to move. Patton looks down and blanches. Both Roman’s feet are solidly planted within a circle of tiny white mushrooms. 

* * *

“Wonderful view, is it not?”

Roman turns to see a man smiling fondly at the valley below. 

“It is. Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude- I didn't realize anyone else was up here.”

“What intrusion? I’m always here,” the man says, turning to smile directly at Roman. Roman gulps, hoping it’s not audible. He’s no longer sure they’re a man- he’s never seen any man or otherwise who was this beautiful. Smooth, porcelain-white skin is interrupted by a gorgeous mottling of golden spots that loop around their face. Hair so bright it appears to burn even in the clouded sunlight flys up in bright reds and oranges above a smooth-skinned face. But their eyes are what catches Roman’s gaze. They are green, so green the color is redefined by their existence. All the richness of summer leaves, the soft glow of moss, the bright energy of springtime buds- all these hues must have been inspired by the sparkling emeralds that stare back at him. 

“Are you staring?” they ask, a smile spreading across their lips.

“Forgive me,” Roman says with a courtly little bow, playing up his theatrical nature. “It’s not often I encounter such beautiful creatures as yourself.”

“Charming, aren’t you,” they laugh. Roman chuckles as well, and turns as they do to face the view again.

After a moment, a tune starts to dance along the breeze. It’s lovely and soft and old, and the harmonies wind together in gentle concert. Roman is humming along before he consciously notes the presence of the song. Still humming, he turns, and realizes that this lovely being is the one singing, harmonizing with themself. The minute the question appears in his mind of how that is possible, it is overshadowed by the realization that this is the song he’s had stuck in his head for days now, the one he hasn’t been able to place, the one he has no memory of learning until the day he couldn’t stop singing it.

Now, he starts singing the higher melody, and the other stops singing both parts to harmonize directly with him, stepping slightly closer as their words and sounds wind together. Those green eyes are staring at him, and he will do anything to keep their attention, to keep studying the sparkles and shades. But his mind feels more and more clear, and the strange, itching restlessness of the past week melts away. Together, the song rises and falls until they slow to a finish on a last sweet note. 

“Thank you for joining me, dear one,” the other says with a smile. “May I be graced with your name?”   
Roman blinks, and says, “My friend keeps calling me Princey. You can too, if you want.”   
Lips as pink and soft as sweet pea blossoms stretch into a grin. “Your friend is very wise to recognize such royalty. You may call me Dee, if you’d like. Are you from here, beautiful Prince?”

“No, I’m from across the pond,” Roman says. Dee is still staring, almost unblinking, and with the endearments, it is making Roman flush. He blesses his dark skin for hiding his blushes as the other tilts his head in curiosity.

“America? How  _ dashing, _ ” Dee murmurs. “And yet you smell like Eire, and you’ve learned our amhrán.”

Roman suddenly starts, reminded of his boyfriend. He turns, only to see Dee is standing very, very close to him. “Wait, where am I? Am I still on the hilltop?”

“Where else would you be, álainn?”

* * *

Patton panics for a solid minute as he tries to get his boyfriend’s attention, but the faerie circle has him caught entirely. Patton’s breath comes faster and faster and his heart is beating out of his chest - is Roman okay? Is he hurt? Is he stuck forever?

“Calm, Patton,” he tells himself. “Breathe. In and out. I can do more once I can breathe. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Just like I tell Virgil.”

He breaths, slowly, bringing his galloping heart back in line. Wait, that’s it! Virgil!

He grabs his backpack, rifling through for the emergency pack Virgil tossed in years ago. Wedged into a corner at the bottom, he finds it: iron, rowanberries, and a smooth stone with a hole worn through it. Patton braces himself, slipping the rest of the packet in his pocket, and looks through the hole of the stone. There’s Roman, appearing as normal… and there’s someone else, tall and bright. But Patton still can’t hear them.

Throwing caution to the winds, Patton strides over to grab Roman’s hand, and sound comes roaring back.

“Oh, Princey, you brought a friend?” Deceit purrs, turning to face the newcomer to the circle. “How did you know I love meeting locals from down in the valley?”

“Dearest, you know who that is, right?” Pat whispers frantically, squeezing Roman’s hand tight.

“They call themself Dee,” Roman whispers back. His tone is reverent as he watches Dee stroke a golden hand through their hair. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

“This is why Rowanberry Wood is so dangerous, sugarplum!”

“This forest’s name isn’t properly Rowanberry, did you know? Rude, isn’t it? Calling our home by the name of a plant that keeps us away from you?

“What is its true name?” Roman asks

“Would you believe me if I said Eden?”

“As much as I believe your name is truly Dee,” Patton interjects. 

“Clever boy,” the fae says, trailing a smooth finger along Patton’s jawline. Despite his fear, Patton feels a shivery tingling sensation run down his spine. It must be a glamour, but this creature is undeniably beautiful. “Just for that, you may call me Deceit, instead.”

“Is that a title, or a warning?”

“Prince, why is your paramour so rude?” Deceit pouts at Roman. “And he hasn’t even introduced himself, what manners are these?”

“You may call me Morality,” Patton interjects. “You know. The thing that reminds you of right and wrong. And tells you that the right thing to do is  _ leave this circle,” _ he says fiercely, tugging his boyfriend’s hand.

“Morality,” Deceit says thoughtfully, rolling the name on his tongue. “You’re local, dearheart, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m from around here,” Patton responds stiffly. “And I know enough about this forest and you to not fall for your tricks or misdirections.”

“You think that of me? I’m hurt,” the fae responds, splaying a perfect white-and-gold hand across their chest. “Why would I wish to trick you, when I only want your company?”

“Honeyblossom, can’t we stay a bit longer?” Roman asks, still staring at the fae’s bright eyes and hair.

“Dearest, it’s all an illusion,” Patton says softly. “They’ve got a glamour on, to seem more human. They’re not  _ like _ us.”

“I only wished to avoid alarming you, but I can remove it if you want,” Deceit says with a shrug. They gesture, and the air around them quivers like hot sand in the sun, rippling and resolving back into full detail.

And what detail it is. Their skin remains porcelain-smooth and white, but the gold disruption shows itself to be shining, golden scales, patterned down their face and trailing down their chest. It’s topped not by bright orange hair, as it appeared, but sheets of fire, rippling waves growing from their skull and flickering up into the sky. Their soft fingers are tipped in golden claws.

With the vanishing of the glamour, the illusion of regular clothes have also disappeared. Roman and Patton can now both see, very clearly, that the golden scales trailing all the way down the fae's body, following their curves, and leading their eyes straight to the only covering the fae has: a strange, leaflike gauze that covers only the area where torso meets legs. Patton may be the only of the two who is obviously blushing, but Roman's wide eyes speak volumes in themselves.

"I hope I haven't scared you, my lovelies?" Deceit asks. The shape of their face has morphed, become higher-browed, but that's not enough to conceal their smirk.

Patton recovers first. "No, you haven't. And we're still going to be leaving now, right love?"

A sharp elbow in his side shakes Roman free of his stunned state. "Um. Yes, dear. We'll do that. We will... stop looking at them."

Deceit laughs, and it sounds like sparrows tweeting and the harsh bray of crows. "Dear Morality,  _ you  _ know I can taste lies in the air. Your Prince has no desire to depart."

"R- Prince. Please, just come with me, okay?" Patton murmurs into Roman's ear. "We need to go."

"What's the risk, love?" Roman asks. "It's an adventure, a new discovery! I can't wait to tell the nerd."

"Please," Patton begs. "I'm... uncomfortable, sweetheart. My feet are outside the circle, let me pull you out, okay?"

Roman hesitates.

His eyes linger on Deceit. They're clearly inhuman now, but still  _ beautiful _ . And their eyes are deep and dark, like staring into the tree canopy at the peak of summer. They sparkle like a pirate's hoard and Roman wants nothing more than to learn the secrets he's sure the fae could teach him. 

But with a force of will he turns his head back to Patton. Dearest, beloved Patton. Who is even  _ more  _ pale than normal, his freckles standing out like paint on his cheeks. Whose hands are warm where they're holding his. "Okay," he whispers. But he makes eye contact with the fae once more as he's tugged back to the hilltop.

Patton keeps tugging him until they're back at their picnic blanket, and then down the hill once more, sticking to the trail. Patton presses a piece of iron into Roman's fist, and holds tight to his own in the hand that's not clasped fast with Roman's. Patton gets them out of the wood as fast as he possibly can, heart still pounding over their near escape.

* * *

At the top of the hill, from within the circle, the fae known as Deceit watches them go. They're disappointed - they'd hoped to be able to talk to them further. The prince tastes of far-off lands, baked warm by an more-present sun. And Morality, a local, with all of that wise caution the humans used to grind into their children. The fae court could never hope to compare to the delightful intrigue of humanity.

But they have a consolation for how quickly these young men left them. They lift their hands, grinning, at the tiny twist of hair wrapped around their finger. Morality didn't show up quite fast enough to prevent Prince from freely giving them a piece of that gorgeous, dark, rough hair. They’d not charmed him or bewitched him in any way. The minute the young man had started to sing along, they’d dropped even the beacon spell they’d sent out into the world, the one that had apparently caught the Prince in the first place. 

They absolutely must see their Prince again, and his Morality too. That much is certain.


End file.
